Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Simply Mortars and Pestles

Beginning in October, I am going to join a group of friends, and friends of friends, to cook our way through Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food. The woman leading us through the adventure is Karen, an enthusiastic cook, baker, gardener, and master of organization. We're in good hands. Her plan is simple, her rules are few, and her influence is tremendous... more than one hundred people have agreed to participate!

I had to order my book, since they were sold out at all of the bookstores I could get to. The day it arrived, I delved right in. I was anxious about the possibility that the recipes would be more science than art... which would be intimidating for me. I was concerned that I would have to add more appliances and contraptions to my kitchen supplies... which I was not going to feel so great about, either. But, mostly I wanted to see what we were going to be doing, making, tasting, playing with, and learning about.

So far, I am delighted... it's easier to be delighted when you find something familiar enough to be agreeable, and new enough to be inspiring. I am getting helpful ideas about staples, basics, and honest Simplicity. I am also finding that I will not have to adhere to strict and taxing rules about precision and exactness... reading and glancing throughout the book, I see most recipes include ideas and suggestions for substitutions, and flavor options. This is Art.

Karen emailed us a link to the schedule she would like us to follow. Ah, the sauces! I smiled to myself. I had already read this section, and was thinking about finding capers, and planting chervil and parsley. It also had me thinking about mortars and pestles, and garlic.

My own mortar and pestle is a family heirloom, a treasured kitchen essential, a molcajete, and tejolote lovingly, generously bestowed upon me by my mother, Delia.

The Wiki article explains my concerns very well... molcajetes do not scrupulously sanitize... hmmmm... that sounds a bit dicey. I manage to sanitize mine, by scrubbing it clean, then inverting it over our gas burner, with a low flame. But, it does get seasoned... and garlic crushed in the molcajete does make a lasting impression. The tiny nooks and crannies of the basalt stone catch particles of food, too, so a single clove of garlic can become almost lost in those little catches.

The tall pestle on the left is new, and still needs to be broken in. The one in the background is long, and was used on a metate, for grinding corn. It is ancient, as is the small, round pestle in the foreground.

I love my molcajete, and when it comes to grinding coriander and cumin, there is nothing better. The best part about it, it's been used for many, many years... it's broken in and doesn't break-up. New molcajetes need to be conditioned with heavy use that will loosen up the basalt that is going to break off. Small grains of basalt break away, making food gritty, and it takes some effort to get the mortar and pestle through this phase.

In many of her recipes, Alice Waters describes using garlic that has been made "creamy," using a mortar and pestle. I use a lot of garlic. Muchismo ajo. I use whole cloves, sliced cloves, diced, minced, and smashed, but I've never reached a "creamy" consistency... not with a garlic crusher, or the flat of a knife on the cutting board, or in my molcajete. So I decided to keep my eyes open for a small, garlic-dedicated mortar and pestle.

Introducing Little Mortar and Tiny Pestle!

I know... I said I was not too keen on adding gadgets and gizmos to my kitchen store, but a new venture calls for an open mind, a willingness to welcome change.

Before I could recommend this to anyone, I had to test it, and see for myself if I found it worthwhile. So out comes a clove of garlic, and into the mortar it goes!

Conclusion: It worked! In a matter of a few crushing motions, I achieved garlic creaminess. I do recommend this Little Mortar and Tiny Pestle.

Favorite: The easy clean-up is a welcome bonus. No problem storing it, either.

5 comments:

That is a teeny tiny pestle and mortar! I found your molcajete a bit scary to be honest. I am very fond of my dark marble one, which is incredibly heavy, but which can even turn salt creamy! (Well, if it's with the garlic...)I dooo look forward to you sharing your culinary delights - however simple. Starting with creamy garlic works for me. We also eat ooooodles of it! Axxx

Annie, Judy, everyone... think about joining!Karen's blog has the details... it's not a closedgroup, or private. Last night she said the group is up to 107, including someone in Japan. The cook book is reasonably priced, and so far, I think it's got good stuff. Here is her sign-up link: http://artofsimplefood.com/how-to-sign-up/

That cooking project sounds awesome. I would love to do this one day. Your family heirloom molcajete is really cool; I love family heirlooms that you can USE. I have something similar in my family, it's a Japanese mortar & pestel called a Suribachi. Ajo! More ajo!

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Time Travel

Liberty, 2013

Chirp-Chirp-Chirp BirdHouse Notes

Sorry. I am practicing freedom of expression:

Wholly shite! I just saw our share of the travel expense for robotics, and I am peeling myself off the floor from sticker shock. In 2 minutes I found 5 highly rated ABNB places where Maria and I could stay for 1/3 the rate. It's not that I am "cheap." It's that I am cheap and have no income, and hope to save for my golden years, or at least put one more kid through college. It's supposed to be inappropriate to talk about money, tacky, I know, but I think it's highly inappropriate to spend beyond my means, or pretend as if I can keep up with the Joneses.

*sigh*

It's not as though it's fatal, but I do feel nauseated.

March 20, 2019

1:29 pm

Instagram... lots of thought about that, and questions. I have the kind of questions about IG that I'd rather not ask aloud, because inevitably it would only demonstrate my insecurity. But here goes... why don't more users demonstrate a little more reciprocity, some like for like engagement, a bit of kindness, gratitude, or even genuine humility? Social media algorithms seem to go right for my jugular, or maybe only my ego.

Laugh out loud: a beautiful woman posted a selfie, with agonizing apologies for doing so, because in her words, "I never do this! I can't believe I am posting a selfie, but sometimes it's ok to be 'out there!'" I thought she was being so modest and humble, and it intrigued me, so I went to her page... and it was true: there were hardly any selfies on her wall, but there was not a single picture that didn't include her. Her entire IG was hundreds and hundreds, adding up to thousands, of pictures of her.

March 20, 2019

12:52 pm

Ten minutes ago I sat down with the intention of blogging. I frequently "intend" to blog. I fancy that I am taking a break, not broken-up. But, once again, I am derailed by something technical and my Google search is not yielding a solution. I sit here, increasingly aggravated, and my shoulder and neck begin to wince and whine, and I ask, "Why? Why pursue this? Is it out of habit? Certainly, by now, I must realize that this blog will not be my career, a literary accomplishment, noteworthy for..." never mind. My point becomes muddled, my thoughts self-deprecating. I miss keeping stories and details, adding to the memory book, and as I get older, I can truly appreciate the practical benefits of the reminders and place holders this blog has created... I will really want to kick myself if I don't continue writing down even small facts, that in years to come will make us smile, or help us keep records straight.

But. As I said... something in iPhoto won't talk to my phone and I can't import pictures. I am so behind. At least, that is how I feel, because I want to be caught up, I want to share all the happy things we have seen, or accomplished, our triumphs, and things we have conquered, tamed, or turned over. I don't feel like it's anything I am obliged to do, it's just what I wish, for my own sense of satisfaction... our pictures, and memories, jotted down and saved, for happiness sake. Sometimes, I feel a bit of relief thinking that as I have been away awhile, most people will have forgotten about Chikebbllog by now (however I spell it) and that I can slip back in and just go on and on about my favorite socks, and how the sweet peas are taking over, and not concern myself a bit that I never did write a book, or talk to Terry Gross.

Maybe I am relieved to not be blogging, because I hate the moment that, inevitably, arises when I feel compelled to share something of the accident, the one back in December. How can I help it? It clouds my head, still, and gives me nightmares, pain, anxiety, and a stutter. Not a very bad one, because I find that if I speak slowly, or not at all, it's not so noticeable. On Saturday, I cried half a day, because I was served another subpoena. It's "only" 2 different hearings/trials, but they keep changing the dates, and then comes a new subpoena. And do you know what troubles me? What will I wear? Because... "first impressions" and all that, and really, I cannot go dressed comfortably, as myself, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Take a bus, you drunk fool." No. I will have to go and face her and her attorney, dressed as me, myself, and I am sorry to say that I will appear as a gray, fat, old woman, that flinches when doors slam, or cars honk. I would rather stay home.